


No Earth without you

by Mtraverandujar



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 21:51:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14090433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mtraverandujar/pseuds/Mtraverandujar
Summary: Let's speak our hearts, let the universe crumble.





	No Earth without you

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I have always wanted to know how their reunion on The hub would have gone on after the last scene we see. This is... a possibility. I hope you like it.

She is crying.

She is crying and he feels tears prickling behind his own eyelids, and he never thought that Laura's tears would feel so sweet to him, that they could ever be such a relief; because her grief has always made him feel like someone was pulling the rug from under her feet. Her pain always made everything so much worse than it already was, as if he could only pull himself together as long as she stayed strong. If Laura kept fighting, nothing was really so wrong that it could not be fixed.

He has grown accustomed to their middle distance, to their eyes doing the talking, to their unique way to acknowledge what could not be said aloud. He has gotten used to her mixture of harshness and warmth, to her long silences, to the precarious balance that she so graciously manages to keep between her responsibilities and her failing health's demands; always walking the uncharted, scary territory in-between, no strength or focus left for anything else. Especially none left to even consider her own wishes in passing, to notice her heart's ache, to give in to her need to let herself go. It was never hard for him to give her the space she needs, to read behind the façade that she hardly ever has the time to shed away now; like an armor that would keep her from crumbling.

One that would also leave everything else outside.

And thus, he read her love for him in her demeanor and her gestures even before she was even ready or willing to admit it. The telltale signs were there, everywhere: in the soft, comforting touch of her hand, in the caress of her voice worrying about him, prompting him to trust her with his fears, with his sorrows; in the green sparkle of those magnificent eyes of hers every time they shared an easy banter; in the splendid smile that was his welcome whenever he visited her aboard Colonial One or in sickbay. And in the way she had accepted or even asked for simple things that were so meaningful: his company during her doloxan treatments, him reading to her. She had also accepted living with him and everything that it implied: letting him take care of her, hold her close at the end of each day, get familiar with her clothes, her toiletries, her habits; witness her moments of deep misery, the cracks on her body and soul. Her behavior has been doing the talking for years.

He knew. And he was grateful.

But now…

Now she is clinging to him like a lifeline; she has let her emotions shake her like a hurricane. She has told him, at last, that she loves him, and that has outshined everything else with an irresistible pull. The dam is broken now and he who knew, he who was grateful, who was so deeply aware that he already had more than he ever dreamed of, finds himself overwhelmed, the flood of her feelings washing over him too, its current strong enough to carry them both far away, tightly wrapped around each other.

"Laura…" he says, just to try the taste of her name as he rocks her in his arms. He wants to test how much richer it sounds, how much sweeter it feels now that she has, at last, confessed her love for him.

She keeps weeping quietly.

And he holds her close, and by securing her against him it is him who finds shelter.

It seems like a lifetime later when Laura finally moves, draws back, pulling her weight off him slowly. Her eyes are still closed, her face wet and tear-stained. By not opening her eyes quite yet she is letting him watch her as he pleases; she is letting him see the physical proof of her unleashed emotion, of her vulnerability, of the strength of her love for him. It is not out of shame that she is refusing to meet his eyes: she just no longer cares that he sees it all.

He cups her cheek, pulls her chin up with his thumb. Her lips are as inviting as the juiciest fruit. He himself lets his lids drop shut. Right there and then, in the belly of a cylon basestar, he kisses her.

The kiss is gentle, and lingering, neither pushing nor demanding. The kiss just is, here and now, just like them, and everything it conveys they knew already and this only makes it all the more intoxicating. Laura's response is gentle and resolute; it is pliant as much as it is certain. It is the unreserved access to her soul that is now his like his is now hers. His knees go wobbly; his mind is blinded by the beauty of Laura giving herself to him, of everything she is with her walls down; by his own willingness to let her take all of him.

He never thought she could be any more beautiful than she already was to him.

"Bill" she asks in a dreamy voice as they part, blinking with effort as if she were getting out of a cloud of slumber. "Where's Galactica? Where's the fleet?"

"On their way to Earth."

He can feel her freeze in his arms. Not that it surprises him. She pulls back to be able to look at him, straight into his eyes, where he knows she can always read everything he would not say anyway. This time it will be no different.

"But…" she starts to object, shaking her head in disbelief.

She is trying to wrap her brain around the fact that he is here while Galactica and the fleet are away. According to the way things should have happened in her mind, there is something very wrong in this.

Realization sinks in.

"You stayed behind." She stammers at last. It is not a question.

He looks into her eyes intensely.

"I made this mistake once, Laura. More than once, actually. I jeopardized the future of the fleet, the survival of humanity, because I couldn't give up on someone I loved. I learned my lesson. You taught me that lesson. And I won't make that mistake again. I couldn't force them to wait any longer, and I couldn't leave with them, either."

Laura stays silent, her green eyes wide with awe. It is so evident that she wants to object. But the magnitude of what he has done for her has her out of words; the impression it has made is even greater than her sense of duty.

"There's no Earth for me without you, Laura."

She parts her lips and breathes in as if she were to say something. The rush of tears is quicker, though. She bites her lip, shakes her head. She can barely contain the tide as she lifts a hand to his cheek.

"Bill, when we find Earth…" she whispers.

He knows what she is trying to say all too well. Earth will be a new beginning for everyone but her. For her, Earth is the end. And for him, too.

"No." He rasps, his eyes suddenly as dark as the never-ending night outside.

Laura lifts her other hand, cradles his beloved face in her palms. She sniffs lightly. Her thumbs stroke his skin, tracing his scars as if she were in love with each and every one of them. Bill closes his eyes. He wants to feel the sheer intensity of her touch; he does not want his sight to interfere.

Then she loops her arms around his neck, bringing her body impossibly close to him. His arms wrap tight around her waist and back. They stay silent, breathing in unison, feeling each other's heartbeats.

"I'm sorry." She slides in his ear after a while.

"None of this is your fault, Laura." His deep rumble replies.

"No, no." He can feel her roll her head side to side, her forehead still leaning on his shoulder. "I don't mean…  _that_. I'm… sorry it took me so long to get… here with you."

Bill holds back the impulse to tell her that it does not matter; that it never really mattered. He lets her continue.

"I… couldn't let myself… It was all too much. I didn't even think… Nothing was on purpose. I just went on. But it was always there, Bill. What I felt for you was always there."

Bill strokes her back, up and down, soothing her.

"It's okay, Laura. I know. And I know you, too. Besides, I could feel it."

She pulls back slowly, putting some distance between their bodies. It is evident she is not done; her point is yet to be made. His hands slide down her arms, holding hers, waiting for her to speak again.

"What's wrong, Laura?"

She lowers her gaze. Her expression is suddenly harsher, darker. There is a small frown between her brows.

"I've been having visions."

Bill gulps audibly.

"What kind of visions?" he carefully prompts.

"Every time this ship jumped I… I saw myself on my deathbed."

"Laura…" he nearly jumps forward, alarmed, trying to get closer, to calm her, to hold her again.

She lifts a hand to his chest, stopping him.

"It was Galactica's sickbay. You were there. You were reading to me. You… you put your ring on my finger when I…"

Her voice shakes too much for her to go on.

Bill lifts a hand to her cheek.

"That part about the ring is realistic." His voice smiles and is tinged with affection as he tries to comfort her.

"I… I was ready to let Baltar bleed to death, Bill. I mean for real. Here. Not in my dream. But then the ship jumped and I saw all this and Elosha was telling me I needed to let myself love again. I needed to find that part of me again, to surrender to it. When the jump was completed and I woke up, I was horrified. He had lost so much blood, Bill. I tried to stop it, I tried to save him. He might not deserve our mercy but… it was not about him. It was about me."

She pauses, nearly breathless. He sees her jaw clench as she gives him her gaze, ready for his judgment.

"I was becoming a monster, Bill. Ruthless, heartless, unforgiving."

"No." his tone leaves no room for discrepancy.

"I'm… I was not like that. Ruling my emotions out has become such a habit. I was so close to… to losing myself, Bill… I couldn't… And I was so unfair with you."

"Laura" he gently interrupts. "Laura, look at me. You've been going through a lot. Far more than I could possibly take myself. You never were the monster you seem to think you were. You never would have reached that point. The proof is that your conscience warned you before it was too late. Those visions, dreams, whatever. And you listened. And if that hadn't worked… I would have stopped it from happening. I would have talked to you."

"I'm stubborn, Bill." She shakes her head, unconvinced.

"Thank you for breaking that to me." Her eyes dart up at him, her brows almost hitting the place where her hairline used to be. She stays still for a moment; then her features relax and she chuckles despite herself. "The Gods know I know that, Laura. But I have faith in you. And if I had had to, I would have stopped you. I can't afford losing you."

They stay still, lost in one another's eyes. The energy shifts again, her gaze softens. Now he knows everything he needs, he does not even see the need to forgive. The way she accepts his caress, leaning her head into his palm, tells him she believes him.

She is worthy of being loved.

"I love you, Laura."

"I know." She sighs, and smiles.

Bill could swear she has sounded almost surprised. He cannot blame her: he is as surprised as she is that all this is happening at all.

Slowly, her hands slide up his arms once more; her slender fingers caress the nape of his neck. Her eyes sparkle in all the greens of the universe, her breathing is ragged and she can barely hold his gaze.

That he and Laura have found each other after the end of the world is both thrilling and humbling. He never thought he would fall in love again; least of all with someone as amazing as her. How this woman can love him back is beyond him, but he is not inclined to question anything. He takes this blessing for what it is.

Laura pulls down at his head and he obliges. As her lips brush his, he tastes the salt still there, the flavor of her earlier emotion, the evidence of how powerful her love for him is. He lets her set the rhythm this time; he lets her explore and plunge and take over. There is a promise of passion in her mouth; an echo of something yet unreleased waiting for the right moment to show up full force. His gut clenches, their breathing catches. His hands slide up her sides, down her spine; his big palms hold her hips just a little bit tighter, confirming that they have understood her message; that they will be up for it when the moment comes.

As she falls back on her heels, he encloses her in a tight embrace; he kisses her temple.

"How come that you were waiting for me alone? Where are the others?"

He can feel Laura smile under his chin.

"I told them it would be better if I came alone. You would be much less suspicious. I could have a chance to explain everything to you first."

His heart melts at the thought of Laura coming up with a plausible excuse to welcome him alone. He also knows she does need to explain, indeed. Now that she is alive and safe and with him, all the hows and whys seem irrelevant. If a cylon would kill him right this second he would die the happiest man in the entire universe. But as much as he does not give a frak about anything else, he knows he is still the Admiral and he needs the memo.

"Tell me."

Laura briefs him on the recent events. With his arms still wrapped around her waist, feeling the warm weight of her hands on his shoulders, he lets himself be carried back to reality by the gentle cadence of her voice. Slowly, awareness of the situation and their responsibilities kicks in again as she speaks, as her words dissolve the warm cloud around them and the colors and confines of the enemy ship become sharp again. With them, a realization.

Nothing will be the same as before. Even if nothing has seemingly changed, everything is new.

Love has found them.

"Where are you?"

Her head cocked to the side, Laura is shooting him an amused, questioning look.

"I've heard every word." He assures her, smiling back.

She extracts herself from his arms.

Gods, the cold.

"Let's go." She tugs at his hand.

She keeps holding it as she leads him along the corridors, back to the room where the others wait for them. They walk determinedly, slipping further back into their roles, into their jobs, into the uncertainty of their immediate future, with the sound and feel of every step.

But their hands remain linked, their fingers intertwined.

Even when they reach the hatch and she finally releases him, she turns to him, her gaze intense, a spark behind her pupils that was not there before, the hint of a smile twitching the corners of her lips upwards.

"Ready?"

He nods.

She clears her throat, straightens her jacket. She turns to the hatch.

She spins the wheel and crosses to the other side. She does it with him beside her.

As they always were.

More than ever, as they will always be.

**Thank you for reading!**


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